Pinatas
by Itakru
Summary: Bakura and Marikku have a little Christmas celebration with a classic hate-the-pharaoh flair. Oneshot. Psychoshipping. YAOI


A/N: Well my plot bunnies for Divided ran away for the moment. So have this little oneshot to entertain you in the meantime while I try to catch the little rascals. Merry Christmas and happy New Year everyone!

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"Oh, come now thiefie, it's Christmas," Marikku crooned as he playfully tugged on the hem of Bakura's blue-and-white tee, a coy smile on his honey-bronzed lips as mischief-filled indigo eyes stared into disapproving brown. The albino glared at the tombkeeper. Yes, because Malik's psychotic counterpart actually celebrated Christmas, obviously. Har. More like he used it as an excuse to be a selfish prick, though when the thief gave it some thought, when didn't the blonde act selfish?

Thought it wasn't like he tried to hide it. Which is probably why Bakura gave in. "Fine," the spirit grumbled. "But only if it'll keep your bloody mouth shut."

"Well, with what I intend to do with it, that shouldn't be a problem," Marikku purred. Bakura rolled his eyes. Always with the corny innuendoes. Why was it always the corny innuendoes? The albino sighed softly as the blonde made good on his word, a pink flush coloring his pallid features as caramel lips began kissing and sucking his skin. Well, Marikku might be an annoying prick, but he had one bloody talented tongue. A thought occurred to the spirit, and he smirked.

"Ah, all those poor souls who will never know you," Bakura commented as that delightful tongue lightly trailed over a now exposed nipple, the pinkish bud hardening with the cold air and the contact. Marikku's dark hands lifted the shirt higher as he spoke until finally it was removed.

"That supposed to be a compliment?" the tombkeeper remarked, cocking a brow.

"No, it was an apology to women around the world for you being gay," Bakura retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

A devilish smile played on Marikku's lips. "Ah, yes, and the women cried in despair as the vision abandoned them, for he was gay, and they could not sway him." Even Bakura snickered a bit at how ridiculously pompous and old that sounded. But his laughter was soon brought to a halt as he was pushed onto his back and as tanned hands began undoing his belt. The spirit smiled, a little shiver of anticipation washing over him as his jeans were slowly removed. Those same dark hands reached up to lightly brush over the growing bulge, and Bakura gave a little groan.

"C'mon Marikku," Bakura said shakily as the tombkeeper began rubbing and massaging the lump firmly, stifling down a little gasp. "Y-you know I hate being t-teased. . . ." Well, actually that was a lie. He loved it. Kind of. It felt good and all, but it was so damned torturous to slowly build up to an orgasm. And if there was one thing Marikku loved to do, it was to torture.

A predatory grin spread over the blonde's face. "Is that right? Then why the stutter, my dear . . . ?" Uh-oh. My dear. He never called Bakura that before. This couldn't be good. But then again. . . .

"Ah?!" The albino yelped as the blonde lifted him until only his shoulders and head were still on the blankets. He didn't even have time to react before his briefs were tossed aside and a skilled tongue began twisting and dancing along his erection, nor was he able to stop himself from moaning eagerly as Marikku playfully suckled the tip.

But all of a sudden it stopped, and Bakura found himself pinned by his hips to the bed. "What . . . Why the bloody hell did you stop?" the thief growled irately.

"Mm, didn't you say you hated being teased...?" the tombkeeper answered, a devious spark in his khol-lined eyes.

If he wasn't pinned down, Bakura could've kicked Marikku for that. Bloody Ra-forsaken bandage-eating pharaoh-loving. . . . The albino growled and swiped at his partner irritably, but all the good that did was get his arms pinned down, too. "Grrah! Marikku! This is exactly what I-mmph!" He didn't get to finish his bitching before his mouth was caught in a heavy and heated kiss that silenced him immediately. It didn't last long, but it made the tombrobber shudder.

"And here you were telling me I talk too much," Marikku commented. "Now shut up and just enjoy it. Stupid thiefie. . . ." As he muttered those last words the blonde lifted Bakura's legs over his shoulders again, holding him steady by the thighs as he began kissing and licking around the thief's need. Each kiss and caress sent shivers up the spirit's spine, goosebumps peaked along his skin, and his member swelled as Marikku blatantly ignored it. If he could just reach far enough to grab that wild hair and yank the bastard where he wanted him. . . .

Except he didn't need to. Bakura gasped as the blonde finally placed his lips on the spot, a deft tongue curling around the sensitive tip sensually as the blonde gently began suckling the tender skin. Bakura groaned low and soft as the blonde gradually took more and more of his now throbbing need into that burning, wet cavern. That devilish tongue circled and twirled, those teeth barely scraped, and now that blonde-haired demon was using his fingers . . . ! The albino almost bit a new scar into his knuckle as he tried to stifle a moan when he felt a curious digit slide into that forbidden area, and not long after was followed by a second. "Hah . . . Ah! Ahh! M-Marikku . . . !"

The tombkeeper smirked but said nothing as he continued orally pleasuring the spirit, letting his fingers slide as deep as they would go into the other before retreating again, watching as the spirit squirmed and writhed and moaned helplessly. By gods, he was gorgeous, Marikku mused as he felt Bakura try to buck against him. That pale skin, his snowy hair, those deep brown eyes that were so dark you'd swear they were black-the blonde drank it all in, from the long and graceful legs to the hate-worn features.

Bakura bucked again, this time with a scream of pleasure, and Marikku held him steady. There it was . . . the thief's weak spot. A devilish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and the blonde pulled back, his fingers now motionless inside of his partner. He waited patiently for the albino to calm a bit, and chuckled when the other glared menacingly. Ah, he was so cute when he was angry, but he was also so irresistibly sexy when he was caught in the throes of pleasure. So before Bakura could begin complaining again, the blonde pressed his fingers hard into the spirit's sweet spot and rubbed, moving his fingers in a circular pattern until the albino was on the brink and then stopped again, repeating the process for several minutes on end.

Bakura kicked his free leg helplessly as he was tortured mercilessly with pleasure, feeling those fingers swirl and press and stretch and rub inside against his sensitive inner walls and prostate until he was at the brink, and then it all stopped until he was back at the start again. Again and again it went on like that until Bakura was sure he'd go crazy with frustration. For Ra's sake, he wanted to come so bad . . . ! It was maddening, being brought so close to the edge of sweet oblivion and denied before the fall over and over and over again. The thief was so lost between frustration and utter pleasure he didn't even notice he'd been set back down until he felt something prod at his entrance. Brown eyes opened up to see the smirking face of his tormentor looming over him, and Marikku bent down long enough to steal another kiss.

"I think that's enough," the blonde whispered huskily. Bakura shuddered, resisting the urge to press his thighs together in anticipation, and wrapped his arms around Marikku's gold-laden neck invitingly. Not that the tombkeeper was waiting for an invitation. The albino cried out as his companion roughly invaded his body, nails digging into tanned skin as instinct and desire overwhelmed him. Yes! Yes yes yes! This was what he had been waiting for!

Bakura moaned loudly as he felt Marikku move deep within him, each throb, each slip and grind, every shake and shudder, everything he felt against his sensitive inner walls brought another cry of pleasure and need from the thief. Oh, there! There! That was it! As his prostate was struck mercilessly, the albino arched his back and cried out even louder, his entire body quaked with pleasure as Marikku hit his mark again and again and again. Gods . . . ! He wanted more.

The tombkeeper paused long enough to bend both of his partner's legs over his shoulders, and Bakura screamed with the pleasure the change of position brought. "Hah . . . ahhh . . . !" Pants and moans and screams slowly dwindled down to soft whimpers and gasps of desperation. He was so close, so close, ah, he was almost there . . . ! Just . . . a little . . . !

And then it hit, and Bakura toppled into blissful white oblivion. It was several quick seconds before he came down from his high, and once he finally did he looked up to see Marikku still bent over him, his eyes closed, face flushed, and breathing hard. Then the blonde leaned down and brushed his caramel lips over the thief's, just before reluctantly pulling out.

"Well, I'd say that was. . . ." Marikku hesitated a moment as he looked for the right word. "Mm. . . . That was quite . . . satisfying . . . don't you think, thiefie?"

"Well given I just came all over your shirt and myself," Bakura drawled snidely. Ever the sarcastic one, that thief. "I'd have to say what the bloody hell do you think?" And mean. Always the mean one. The tombkeeper might have given an indignant snort and stormed out when this first started, but he knew the spirit better now, and so just chuckled as he peeled away his favorite black muscle shirt and rezipped his pants.

Bakura stared as Marikku began walking away, but said nothing before flopping back on the bed and curling under the covers. It was expected, Marikku would have his bloody way, banter a little, and then leave. Never changed, nor did he expect the tombkeeper to change. And he certainly didn't want him to. He was above such petty little mortal wishes. It'd be nice if the stupid rat would come cuddle for once, though. . . .

"Hey, Merry Christmas," Marikku said as he plopped down next to Bakura, startling the spirit. Wait, Marikku hadn't left yet? Then he saw the rather large and brightly colored box in the blonde's hands.

"What the. When did you start celebrating Christmas?" Bakura asked suspiciously as he eyed the colorful eyesore. A gift? For him? What the hell else did Marikku want from him?

"I don't," Marikku stated plainly. "But you're one of few I might let survive when I get the pharaoh's power and destroy the world. Now, here, open it."

Bakura cautiously took the proffered gift, looking at it with a raised eyebrow as though expecting it to explode with acid or something equally painful. "I thought you gave up on destroying the world," he remarked casually as he tugged on the ribbon.

Marikku made no comment as he waited, his indigo-eyed stare beginning to grate on the thief's nerves as he peeled away the wrapping paper. The white cardboard flaps weren't taped down and so opened with ease, and the thief reached in to pull out . . . the pharaoh's head? No, wait, not the real head (though that would've been one hell of a gift), Bakura observed. It was a piñata replica! With a bat shaped like the Millennium Rod of all things. The thief couldn't help but burst into laughter. It was so damned ridiculous but so . . . so perfect! His own piñata-pharaoh to beat the shit out of when he wanted.

Bakura managed to stop laughing long enough to say, "This is bloody BRILLIANT, Marikku! Ha! I must say I wasn't expecting this."

Marikku grinned. "Thought you might get a kick out of that. Wait until you beat it open and find what's inside."

"Eh? What is inside?" Bakura inquired as he put his ear to the piñata and gave it a gentle shake. Something clinked together inside, and the thief stared at the gift, bemused.

"I'm not telling," Marikku answered in a sing-song voice. Once more he kissed his thiefie on the lips, and then as he pulled away whispered, "Merry Christmas."

Bakura stared after the blonde-haired demon as he walked away, a bit taken aback by the tenderness of the kiss. There was something . . . more . . . than just lust and desire in those lips anymore, and as the thief looked over the torn wrapping paper and box and his gift, he smiled. A true, genuine little smile, even if only for a moment.

"Heh. . . . Merry Christmas indeed."


End file.
